A Struggle for Reformation
by Inconceivable Me
Summary: The prophecy of Harry and Voldemort was never told. Voldemort was never defeated- Dumbledore was, on April 1, 1986. Since then, all of Europe has been under the Dark Lord's rule, wizards and Muggles alike. AU
1. Prologue

March 31, 1999

We have written this story for anyone who survives tonight. We don't expect to live to see the sun rise again. We just hope that someone will find this and realize that not only can Lord Voldemort be defeated, but also that we do not have to fight each other. Muggle, Mudblood, Halfblood, Pureblood- these are just titles. None of us are any better or any worse than the others. And who knows, maybe your soul mate falls into the category of people you hate most…


	2. August 2, 1998

August 2, 1998- Draco

"Drakie!" A shrilly voice pierces through the serenity of the library. Ah, so the Parkinsons are here.

Sure enough, when I look up from my book, Pansy Parkinson is half-running over to me, her brother behind her.

"Hey, Pans," I say, getting up and hugging her. "'Sup, Harry."

"I know school hasn't even been out for a full month yet, but it feels like it's been forever since I saw you! The only one I've had to talk to the whole summer is that git over there." Pansy says, nodding her head in Harry's direction.

"Hey, you're not exactly my first choice either!" Harry laughs.

"I really feel for you, Pansy. Wish I could help you out, I really do, but I've been so busy at work." I smirk.

"Oh yeah! I still can't believe you got a job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Inferior Beasts. And we just barely finished school! How has that been?" Pansy rants, all brother-taunting forgotten.

"It's actually pretty cool. A Centaur was beheaded last week- I got to watch. We've managed track down twenty-six Acromantulas in the Forbidden Forest, who I'm sure you heard, nearly killed a stupid third year a few months ago. We even managed to remove that horrid giant squid from the lake at Hogwarts."

"Wow. Sounds like you've been busy." Harry comments.

"Yep. And I haven't even told you the best part yet. The Dark Lord said that there is a mudblood who has become a bit of a concern, and I'm going to get the honor of retrieving and killing said mudblood."

"The Dark Lord said that? Oh, Draco, I'm so proud of you!" Pansy hugs me again.

"Yeah, well done, Draco," Harry praises.

"Thanks. You know, it does feel good, like I'm finally doing something worthwhile. So what have you two been up to, besides tormenting each other?"

"Nothing, it's been horrible! Can we please go somewhere else? I hate libraries- too stuffy." Pansy whines.

"Of course. Wanna go fly?" They both nod in agreement. Leaving my book on a table for a house elf to put away, we head down to the Manor's Quidditch pitch.

"Yeah, the summer hasn't been exciting at all." Harry says, continuing the conversation. "I think we need to get jobs, Pansy." She looks at her brother in disgust.

"Ugh, no! You can if you want, but there is no way in hell I am ever getting a job! I'd rather be bored."

Harry and I burst out laughing. She looks truly appalled at the notion of working.

"You know what? You guys go ahead. I'm going to go find Narcissa; she had promised I could help her plan Saturday's ball. I'll see you two later." With that, she turns on her heel, nose in the air, and saunters off in the opposite direction.

"Your sister is way too sensitive. Can never take a fucking joke." Harry nods in agreement.

.

For a while, we fly around the pitch, tossing around the quaffle and chasing after the snitch. But the whole time, Harry seems to be lost in his own little world. After I catch the snitch for the eighth time, I get too frustrated with his lack of effort.

"Ok, mate, what's up?"

"What do you mean?"

"I caught the snitch. Again. I'm good, but even I don't beat you every single time. Something's bothering you. Spill."

"Fine. But you have to swear you won't tell anyone." I roll my eyes.

"Whatever. Just tell me already!"

"It's just that… do you ever feel, I don't know, bad about killing all those creatures? Or think that maybe the Muggles aren't as disgusting as we think? I mean, they do look a lot like us." I stare at him in confusion and shock. Did I just hear him right?

"What? Where is all this coming from?" I question when I finally regain my senses.

"It's something I've been thinking about for a while now. I mean, my birth mother was a mudblood, right? And I've turned out ok." I snort. "Shut it, Draco. I'm serious! Maybe the Dark Lord is wrong."

"You shouldn't be talking like this, Harry. It's traitorous. If anyone finds out that you've been thinking this shit, you'd be killed for sure."

"I know. You won't tell anyone, right?" His piercing green eyes widen at the thought.

"You're my best mate. Of course I won't tell! But I am worried about you. You're not exactly the most accomplished Occlumens. If anyone ever tries to penetrate your mind, you're a dead man."

.

August 3, 1998- Hermione

"Hermione!" My mom calls. Dang it! I was just getting to the climax of my book. Nevertheless, I place the bookmark in the correct spot and set my book down on my bed.

"Coming, Mum!" I call back as I hurry down the stairs. "Yes?"

"There's been an emergency and you're father and I are needed at the office. Some poor chap has managed to crack both of his front teeth! We won't be home until late, so you're on your own for dinner."

"Ok, no problem. Be careful though. Both of you." My mum smiles.

"Of course Dear. Lock the door behind us. And no you-know-what!" I roll my eyes. Honestly, I don't know why we bother. If a witch or wizard wanted to break into the house, a locked door wouldn't deter them, not even for a moment. But I do as I'm told.

As for the 'you-know-what,' I understand my parents' concern- I would be killed if the Dark Lord knew about me, a mudblood who can actually somewhat control her magical abilities- but still, I can't hide it forever.

You see, for sixteen years, a Dark Rebellion raged in the magical community, unbeknownst to Muggles. On April 1, 1986, the Dark Lord and his loyal band of Death Eaters won the war, and exposed the existence of magic to the world. It only took them seven months to take over all of the Muggle governments in Europe. The Dark Lord took control of Europe, and introduced a new caste system, with him at the top.

Immediately below him are the pureblooded witches and wizards, followed by the halfbloods. These two classes live the high life, but everyone else is treated terribly. Those classified as 'blood-traitors' are murdered, although pure-blooded children of blood-traitors are taken and raised "correctly" by other purebloods. Children of magical families who have not shown to have magical ability by the time they reach age eleven are often killed- squibs are an embarrassment to those who believe magical blood is superior. Muggles are considered scum in this era. We live in constant fear, because witches and wizards often like to terrorize us when they get bored.

I think the Muggle-born witches and wizards have it the worst, though. We have the same concerns as Muggles, seeing as we have to pretend that we lack magical powers. Immediately after their victory, the Death Eaters had hunted down and killed every Muggle-born who had been educated in the art of magic, although I did hear a rumor that a high-ranking Death Eaters kept a Muggle-born as a slave. Nowadays, for the most part, they leave us 'mudbloods' alone, though I'm sure they keep track of who we are. The Dark Lord is too preoccupied in conquering the rest of the world to bother with us. We are not permitted to learn magic or carry wands, but as long as we pretend not to have magical powers, we are left alone. Unless, of course, a Death Eater gets bored and wants someone to "play" with. But that goes for every member of the Muggle community.

About an hour after my parents leave, I decide that I want soup, so I put a pot of water on the stove. It starts boiling within thirty seconds. Mum would be furious if she caught me using magic to heat up the water, but it's not like anyone is around to see. And I'm hungry.


	3. August 3, 1998

**I hated writing this chapter, but I feel it is necessary, so here it is. Chapter 2.**

August 3, 1998- Draco

Monday morning finds my mother, father, and me sitting at the breakfast table. My father is reading the Daily Prophet.

"Anything interesting, dear?" My mother asks.

"Yes, actually. The last of the Bones have been captured."

"The Bones? What for? Amelia Bones was in my year. She was a halfblood, so it can't be a matter of blood."

"It is, as a matter of fact. Her brother married a mudblood. She, her brother, and his daughter have been protecting the wife since the end of the war. They will all pay the price."

"Even the child?"

"The girl is eighteen. She is of age. She will be held accountable."

"Maybe I'll get to witness the execution," I think aloud.

"Oh, that's right, Draco! This is your department. Well, if you do get lucky enough to see it, let me know how it goes. They are most thrilling to watch."

"Of course, Father. Please excuse me; I must be heading to work now."

.

When I get to the office, my boss immediately greets me. Ignavus Fisher may be my superior where work is concerned, but he and I both know that I rank far above him where it really matters. We might both be purebloods, but of the two of us, only I am a member of the Dark Lord's most exclusive circle of followers.

"Morning, Fisher. I heard about the Bones' arrest. Was that us?" I ask.

"Yes, it was. It took a good many years, but we finally caught them." He looks extremely pleased with himself.

"Good. I assume they will all be executed?"

"Yup. In just a few hours, as a matter of fact."

"And I am welcome to attend?" He looks nervous for a moment. I guess he hadn't planned on having me tag along. But the sniveling coward will never say no to me.

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy. It will be held in London in a few hours, so that we can make an example of them."

.

I Apparate to the Public Execution Station about twenty minutes early, but already, the square is packed with an audience. Most of the crowd is made up of purebloods who despise mudbloods, but I see a few faces that look sick at the prospect of an execution. They won't say anything, though, or else it will be them on that stage next. Newspaper and magazine reporters are up front, as well as Muggle newscasters. Muggle television news reporters one of the few nonmagical people in our society who have any rights. With these Muggles, we can show the whole country what will happen to them if they don't obey us.

"Malfoy, you made it!" Fisher exclaims when I finally make my way up to the execution area. "I must say, even after attending countless of these things, they are still quite exhilarating!"

"I wouldn't know. This will be my first."

"Really?" He looks shocked. With a family like mine, you'd expect that I'd have been to hundreds of these things by now. But the truth is, I've never even seen a human being die. At least, not in person. I am quite excited to finally attending not only one, but four people's deaths. "Well, you're in for a real treat then!" Fisher thumps me on the back.

In a public execution, each criminal is put to death one at a time. First up is Amelia Bones. Requests are then taken from the audience. They decide they want to see her burn. The executioner, Walden Macnair, grins savagely, pointing his wand at her chest. "Incendio!" He shouts for everyone to hear. I struggle to keep up my mask of indifference as the woman bursts into flames. The fire burns my eyes. Her screams shatter my eardrums. I smell the putrid stench of burning flesh become increasingly potent as the minutes creep by. The shrieks stop, but still the fire continues. It will not end until the fire has nothing more to fuel itself.

Finally, after an eternity, the flames wither out. The crowd cheers, and I have to remember to join in the applause.

Next up is her niece, Susan Bones. My father had mentioned that she's eighteen- the same age as me. She appears incredibly young and scared as Goyle, Sr. drags her onto the stage.

This time, death by scalping is demanded. The executioner, Walden Macnair, summons a beautiful silver dragger, which he digs into the top of Bones' head. I cheer with the rest as her screams echo through the square.

Poor Susan Bones is still alive when the last piece of skin connecting her scalp to her head is severed. She will die soon, though, so she is dragged to the side of the stage, where the masses can still see her suffering, but she won't get in the way of her parent's executions.

Benjamin and Anna Bones are brought onto the execution stage together. The audience is not asked for their input this time. Something special is planned for these two.

Their faces go stark white when they see their daughter dying in the corner. "Susan!" The mother cries, and tries to run to her child, only to be halted by Goyle. The audience is loving the spectacle that the hysterical Anna Bones is making.

"Stupid mudblood thinks she can help the girl," I chuckle to Fisher. I've got to keep up appearances, even if I want to throw up. Fisher smirks and shakes his head in amusement.

Finally, the two parents are contained, though Anna Bones is still weeping uncontrollably. Macnair looks over to Fisher, who gives a small nod. The executioner aims his wand at the father. "Imperio!" Bones gets up slowly and stands at attention in front of Macnair. He hands the man the same dagger used to scalp Susan Bones. I can see the fear in his eyes as Benjamin Bones takes it and walks over to his wife. "No, Ben, please n-!" Too late. The dagger is in her chest, blood pouring out. She falls to her knees.

The husband rips the dagger out of her, which kills her instantly. Then he turns it on himself. The blade, already stained crimson with his wife's and daughter's blood, plunges into his stomach. The audience goes ballistic.

I am in a daze as I go through the motions of applauding and smiling and congratulating every fucking person who had a hand in these four people's captures and deaths. I know that they deserved it, but it had been hard to watch.

.

August 4, 1998- Hermione

It's noon. I've been dreading this moment since I heard that there's going to be an execution today at twelve. Viewing is mandatory.

I'm sitting on the couch with my mum and dad in front of the television, waiting for the news to come on broadcasting the killings. I hate these things. They never fail to be completely violent and painful. It's even worse when you know the victim on the stage. Just last month, I watched as my ninth grade English teacher, Mr. Barton, was mauled by a Runespoor.

"Today, four people- Benjamin, Anna, Amelia and Susan Bones – will be put to death here in London. Anna Bones is a mudblood who attended to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and has been in hiding ever since the Dark Lord came into power. Her husband, daughter and sister-in-law have been helping her evade capture for the last twelve years." Reporter Amber Willis announces on the television. I really hate that woman. Scratch that, I hate all news reporters. They are Muggles who work for witches and wizards and incriminate their own people. Disgusting.

Amelia Bones is up first. She walks out with her head held high and a determined expression on her face. I immediately like her; she won't be easy to make scream.

I'm wrong. As soon as the flames engulf her body, her façade breaks, and she is screeching in agony. I can't blame her- burning would be a terrible way to go. It's becoming too difficult to watch this, so I survey the spectators instead. Many have lips contorted into malicious grins. A few are shooting sparks into the air with their wands. One teenage couple is actually making out. Do they really get off on this?

There is one man in particular that catches my eye. He is not in the audience, but rather on the side of the stage, where the influential people stand. His platinum hair would make him stand out anywhere. He stands stock still, his expression a stony mask. His very presence screams regal and important.

He claps with everyone else as the fire dies and Susan Bones is brought onto the stage. Goodness, she can't be much older than me! The chosen method for her death is exceedingly crude, and I can't bear to watch, so I turn my attention back to Draco Malfoy.

Yes, I know who he is. Everyone does. He and his entire family is in the Dark Lord's inner circle. The Malfoys are one of the most evil families in Europe, and from what I hear, the son is no better. He just finished school, and already he has a job that requires him to kill living beings.

When Benjamin and Anna Bones are brought out, Malfoy is clearly amused by their despair at seeing their dying daughter. He even seems to laugh and make a joke of it to the middle-aged man next to him. It's sickening.

Finally, the execution is over. I can't believe they made Benjamin Bones kill his own wife- well actually I can, but still! It's horrible. For the rest of the day, my house is silent in mourning and respect, as it always is after an execution.


	4. August 8

**I'm not sure if anyone will notice, but I messed up on the dates a bit. I moved everything back a day.**

August 8, 1998- Hermione

I'm curled up on the couch reading the Daily Prophet, which is, like every media outlet, controlled by the Dark Lord. According to the paper, the Death Eaters are moving east into Asia.

"Hermione! Hermione!" My best friend, Olivia, shouts, barging into my home without bothering to knock. Her long honey-blond hair is flying behind her and her bright blue eyes are shining with excitement.

"Shh! My mum and dad are still sleeping."

"Still?" She asks, lowering her voice.

"They had to work late last night. So what brings you here at… ten in the morning? Shouldn't you still be asleep or something?" Olivia never gets up before noon if she can help it.

"You'll never guess who came to my house today! Luka Mishin!"

"Who?"

"He is only the guy who owns the Channel 7 news station!" I don't understand why we still have multiple news channels. All of them report the same news, and all of them report those things from the same perspective: the Dark Lord's. He has them all wrapped around his long, bony fingers. "I've got an audition as a reporter!"

"You what? I thought we hated them! And when did you even apply?" I blurt out.

"Of course we hate them!" She says, rolling her eyes. "But it's one of the few jobs where I'd get a decent pay. I applied last month. I wanted to tell you, but I knew that you'd react like this."

"But… but I… nevermind. You're right. I'm sorry. I really am happy for you."

"Thanks 'Mione!" She squeals, hugging me tightly. Too tightly.

"Can't breathe!" I choke out. She laughs and lets me go.

"So when do you leave?" I ask.

"Monday morning."

"Geez. So soon?"

"Yep. You'll come with me to the Pureblood Hotel, right? That's where I'm meeting him." The Pureblood Hotels are, obviously, hotels, spread all over Europe. There is one in nearly every Muggle neighborhood, and only purebloods and highly influential halfbloods are permitted to stay in one.

I don't want to go anywhere near that place, but I've got be a supportive friend, so I agree.

August 9, 1998- Draco

I look pretty good in dress robes, if I do say so myself. I am standing in front of the full-length mirror in my room, scrutinizing my appearance. My robes are crisp, classic, and made of only the best materials by the best seamstress in the Northern Hemisphere. My hair is, as usual, gelled back, not a strand out of place.

The annual Malfoy End-Of-Summer Ball started about half an hour ago in the ballroom downstairs, and already the party is in full swing. I have yet to make my entrance, though. It never hurts to be fashionably late.

My mother came by a few minutes ago, informing me that many people are inquiring about my whereabouts, and that I should go greet our guests. And not even a Death Eater disobeys his mother.

The moment I step downstairs, I am pestered by a horde of social-climbing middle-aged suck-ups. "Hello, Mr. Malfoy!" "Good to see you, Mr. Malfoy!" "Good evening, Mr. Malfoy!" I nod politely at each of them, but inside, I am utterly frustrated. This is why I put off coming to the party. I know for a fact that at least ninety percent of these fuckheads hate my guts.

Finally, after shaking off Peter Pettigrew, I am free. I go to the Ballroom, where witches and wizards in extravagant robes waltz across the dance floor. I recognize nearly all of them from other balls. It is a great honor to be invited to a Malfoy ball. Only the most respectable purebloods and a few select halfbloods receive an invitation. And those who do get one wouldn't miss it for anything, unless they wanted to be cast into social Siberia.

Scanning the room, I see Pansy and Harry Parkinson dancing goofily together, earning them disapproving glares from everyone around them. The two might fight and bicker all the time, but they really are the best of friends.

When Harry twirls Pansy in an exaggerated spin, Pansy spots me. "Drakie!" She shrieks, earning her even more disgruntled looks.

As quickly as her five-inch heels will allow, Pansy scurries over, dragging her brother with her. "Draco, we haven't seen you all night! We were afraid you wouldn't show up!"

"Sorry, Pans. Was just running a bit late."

"Oh, it's fine. You're here now!" I smirk.

"Hey, Harry, mind if I steal your sister for a dance?"

"Fine with me. I saw Daphne earlier- I'll go dance with her." Harry says and disappears into the crowd.

I hold my right hand out to Pansy, and she places her left delicately on top, giggling. We begin to dance. She looks gorgeous in magenta dress robes, her black hair done up in a complicated twist.

The music stops. I contemplate kissing her. We have best friends since birth, practically, and I don't want to ruin that, but I've wanted to move past the friend-zone for a while now. Screw it. I lean down, and pray to Merlin that she kisses me back.

"Hello, Draco. Ms. Parkinson." My godfather interrupts. Fuck. Fantastic timing.

"Hello, Severus. I didn't see you there."

"I just got here."

"And may I ask who you are? I'm Pansy Parkinson." I didn't even notice the red-haired beauty standing behind Severus. Her big brown eyes widen in surprise when Pansy addresses her.

"Lily Potter, M'Lady." She bows her head.

"She is a mudblood, Parkinson." Snape spits.

"Ew! Why is she here?"

"I am a very busy man. I own this mudblood. It is my date for the evening."

"Right. Well make sure it keeps its filth to itself." I say, scrunching up my nose at the mudblood.

"Draco, Pansy, you will never guess who is here! Oh, hello Severus, Severus' date." Harry says as he and Daphne Greengrass make their way over to us.

"Good evening, Mr. Parkinson."

"Harry?" Lily Potter whispers in what sounds like disbelief.

"Excuse me? Do I know you?"

"I doubt it- unless you make a habit of knowing mudbloods. Probably heard me mention you at home. Excuse us, we should be going."

"So, who's here?" Pansy asks.

"What?"

"You were all excited about somebody being here, dumbass! Who is it?" I ask.

"Oh! The Dark Lord is here!" Astoria exclaims in enthusiasm.

Suddenly, the room goes still, everyone whispering excitedly about the Dark Lord being at a ball. They must have all heard her outburst. I glare at her, which she responds to with an apologetic smile.

I make my way over to the entrance hall, where, sure enough, a tall cloaked form waits. I bow. "Ah, Draco Malfoy. Just the man I was hoping to see."

"And what is it you want to see me for, my lord?"

"I have a mission for you, and I thought I'd deliver it to you personally."

"My lord, I am honored!"

"I believe you are the best for the job. It will be your first big assignment, am I correct?" I nod.

"I have the case file right here." He hands it to me. "I want you to capture this mudblood, alive, on Monday. Do you think you can handle that?" He sneers.

"Of course, my lord. Thank you, my lord."

"Don't fail me, Draco." And with that, he Disapparates.

I open the file containing every minute detail we know about the mudblood. Its name: Hermione Granger.


	5. August 10

**I had some difficulty figuring out how I was going to write this- hopefully the alternating points of view isn't too confusing. Also, classes started on Monday, so I might not be able to update as frequently as before.**

August 10, 1998- Draco

I spent all day yesterday studying the file, preparing myself for my assignment. I know everything about the mudblood now: where it lives, what it looks like, who its friends are, its hobbies, its magical abilities, its rank at school when it graduated. Everything.

This is it. 1527 Wisteria Way in London. The mudblood's house. Should I knock, or should I barge right in? Hmm, I think I'll go with dramatics.

"Bombarda Maxima!" I shout, aiming my wand at the front door. The whole door, as well as the frame and chunks of the wall, explode into millions of tiny pieces. "Homenum Revelio." Nobody is home.

I decide to wait. A book sits on the couch. The Wizarding War: A Light Perspective by Bathilda Bagshot. I'm positive the Dark Lord doesn't know about this book, or Bagshot would be dead already. I make a mental note to hand this over to him so he can punish Bagshot, but for now, I sit on the couch and read the book. Who knows how long I'll have to wait before someone comes home.

.

August 10, 1998- Hermione

"Does my hair look okay? And my make-up, do my eyes look even? Oh my god, I think my skirt might be too short! I can't look like a slut for my audition!" Olivia is hysterical. We have been waiting for Luka Mishin to come for twenty minutes, and the wait has only increased her anxiety.

"You look fine, Olivia."

"Fine? Just fine? Fine won't get me this job!" True. They only employ the most gorgeous men and women for the Channel 7 news. But Olivia looks like a gosh-darn model. Of course she'll get the job!

"You look great, ok? Stop worrying!"

"I know I should. I mean, I don't want to get worry lines. But I just can't help it! I'm nervous!"

"Just come down, Olivia. You're going to-"

"Hello, Ms. Lennox? I am Luka Mishin. We spoke on Saturday, you might remember." I'm interrupted by an extremely handsom Russian man, maybe thirty years old, wearing turquoise robes, a turquoise and white spangled hat, and a snooty attitude.

"Yes, Mr. Mishin! It's good to see you again!"

"Who is your friend?" He asks.

"Oh, this is Hermione. Hermione Granger."

"She is here for an audition, too? She won't do. Too plain. Hair is too big- it's giant fuzz ball! Not tall enough, either. Or skinny enough."

"No, no! She's here for moral support." Olivia tells Mishin while giving me an apologetic look. I roll my eyes and shrug, telling her it's ok, but really, it stung a bit.

"Good! Well, we should get going. Say goodbye to your friend." He backs off to let Olivia and me talk.

"I'm gonna miss you!" Olivia says.

"I'm gonna miss you, too!" We hug. "You're going to do great! Just don't forget about us little people!" She smiles.

"Of course not!"

"Are you ready?" Mishin asks Olivia when we turn our attention to him.

"Definitely. Just, we aren't going to Apparate, are we?" All of us Muggles have heard about how utterly uncomfortable Apparation is.

Mishin lets out a big hearty laugh. "Of course not! That would require touching you. No, we are going to take a Muggle car." And there's the racism! I was starting to worry that this wizard didn't care about blood status. That would have been just awful! And no, I am not serious.

As they go to the car, I walk in the opposite direction, towards my house. Very few Muggles have a car nowadays. None of Europe imports automobiles from foreign countries (actually, we hardly import anything, since the rest of the world is at war with our beloved leader), and we don't produce them anymore. So, the only ones left are older. My parents have one that they share- a white '84 Toyota Camry that they bought before wizards took over.

A two and a half mile stroll later, I reach the street I live on. And right away, I know something is wrong. It is a beautiful sunny day, but there is absolutely no one outside. Not even little old Mrs. Shuttleworth in her rocking chair, smoking her cigar.

Cautiously, I make my way down Wisteria Way. I reach my home without anything jumping out at me and yelling "boo!" As I draw closer, though, I realize that the front door is missing, a gaping hole in its place. Even some of the wall is gone.

Obviously, someone was, and possibly is, here. In my house. I briefly contemplate turning around and seeking refuge at a neighbor's house. But like the stupid blond girl in the horror movies, I walk into the scary unknown. How depressing is it to say that about my own home!

The first thing I see when I enter the house is a man with brilliant blond hair and a superior air, reading my book. Shit, it's Draco Malfoy.

.

Draco

The mudbood is finally here. I've been waiting for two hours, damn it!

It looks exactly like it did in the photo. Merlin, its hair is really like that? I'd thought that maybe it had been having a bad hair day when it took the picture. Guess not.

The mudblood screams.

"Silencio!" I say. The screams stop abruptly.

"I am a Death Eater and an employee for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Inferior Beasts! I am here to arrest you, Hermione Granger, on the charges of being a filthy Muggle who stole magic from a real witch or wizard. The Dark Lord will decide your fate."

With that, I move to clap her in anti-magic irons. The moment I draw near, it grabs my right arm. A million volts of electricity immediately begins coursing through my arm. And not in a cheesy, romantic, "We have a connection!" kind of way, but in a "Fuck, my arm is being electrocuted!" way.

The mudblood takes my wand out of my hand, and with the electric current running down my arm, I cannot resist.

"You are at my mercy now, Draco Malfoy!" The mudblood shouts, pointing _my_ wand at me.

.

Hermione

What am I doing? Attacking not a Ministry employee, but one of the most important Death Eaters? This will not only get me killed, but everyone I've ever met punished as well! I've already started though, so now I have no choice but to follow through.

"There will be severe consequences to this," Malfoy drawls. He doesn't seem remotely anxious being at wandpoint.

"Not if I don't get caught. Give me your left arm."

"And get your dirty germs? Fuck no!"

"I have the wand. Do it, or I'll hex you!" Malfoy chuckles.

"You never went to a wizarding school. You don't know any spells."

"I'm sure you read my file, Malfoy. I'm intelligent. I read. And I seem to have a talent for magic, as I'm sure you felt a few moments ago. Or if not, I can refresh your memory."

"I don't recall. I can't imagine a mudblood ever being bright or being good with magic." He replies.

"Petrificus Totalus!" I shout, using the wand. Malfoy falls to the floor, stiff as a board. That was my first time using a wand! And it worked!

I grab his left arm and pull back the sleeve. An ugly tattoo skull glares back at me. If Malfoy touches this, it would alert the Dark Lord to where he is. I can't have that. But I can't remove it either. That's impossible. So I do the next best thing. Using a spell I found in A Collection of Protection Spells and Wards, I place a Ward around the Dark Mark, preventing anybody but me from touching it. I just hope it works.

Next, I retrieve ropes from the garage to bind Malfoy with. Then I run to my room, load a bag up with clothes and hurry to the kitchen for some food. Returning to Malfoy, I spot a book on the couch, The Wizarding War: A Light Perspective. I pack that too.

I can't stay. If I do, I'd be tortured and killed for what I've done in the last ten minutes. I can't let Malfoy go, either. He seems like the kind of person who will go through great lengths to get revenge. He'd come after everyone I care about as well as me for humiliating him like this. I'm going to have to bring him with me.

I need to leave him paralyzed and bound, though. This is an issue; I doubt I can lift him.

Wait, I've got a wand now! "Wingardium Leviosa!" He starts floating several feet above the ground.

My bag in hand, I step outside, Malfoy in front of me. I don't know how long it will be before the Ministry comes looking for him, but I plan on being as far away as possible when that happens.

I set a course for the woods. It's about three blocks away.

There is still nobody outside on my street, but on the next one over, several kids are outside playing basketball. They all stop to stare at the still body floating in front of me.

Finally, I reach the cover of trees. I've still got to keep moving though. Stopping will get me killed.

It's becoming increasingly difficult to navigate Malfoy through the trees. He keeps hitting them, which I wouldn't mind, except that it's impeding progress. So, I gently lower him to the ground and lift the spell.

He tries to run as soon as he regains motor control, but he is still bound by the ropes.

I point my wand at him. "Malfoy, I am going to untie the ropes around your ankles. If you try to escape, I will hex you." He just glares at me with contempt.

"Come on, let's get moving," I say after I untie the ropes. For a moment, I could see in his eyes that he's thinking about making a run for it. I jab him with my wand, which he eyes, and he turns around and walks. I keep my wand aimed at him at all times.

.

Draco

The bloody mudblood has kidnapped me! How dare it! It will soon pay, though- I'll make sure it.

I check behind me to see Granger still walking with _my _wand pointed at me. It glares at me when it sees that I'm looking, and I glare back, then turn back around before I walk into a tree.

You might be wondering why I haven't alerted the Dark Lord to my situation. The thing is, that would be disgraceful and embarrassing- to be overtaken by a female mudblood! I would undoubtedly be punished and I would lose some respect. No, that will be a last resort.

"Bloody hell, Granger! How much further do we have to go? I can't see a fucking thing!" We've been walking all day. Night fell hours ago. I keep bumping into trees now -the dark hides them well.

It sighs. "Fine, Malfoy. We should be stopping soon anyways." Thank Merlin! My flawless skin is already going to be marred by ugly bruises tomorrow from all those trees.

Granger orders me to sit by a tree. I grit my teeth- nobody tells a Malfoy what to do, except maybe the Dark lord… and Mother Malfoy- but I do as I'm told.

The mudblood magicks the rope that had fastened my feet to be longer, and uses it to bind me to a tree.

It goes to sleep on the dirt floor, where a mudblood belongs. For the time being, I'll be a good little prisoner, but as soon as Granger let's its guard down, I will get my wand back and capture the mudblood. With any luck, no one will ever know about this little detour.


	6. August 11

August 11- Hermione

God, kill me now!

It's almost not worth it, being stuck running from psychotic murderers with Mr. Draco I-Can't- Scuff-My-Brand-Spanking-New-Seven-Hundred-Galleon-Italien-Leather-Shoes Malfoy. I've always known that wizards are cruel and violent, but are they all this superficial and…prissy? I mean, he refuses to even eat beans because "they look like Pixy shit." Unbelievable!

And this morning, Malfoy threw the biggest tantrum when I told him there wasn't a shower nearby. He started going off on how his hair was going to suffer and how savage this is, running around through the forest, getting dirty. It was quite amusing actually, albeit a bit frightening. And what made it even more hilarious was the fact that I know a cleaning spell, scourgify, that I could have cleaned him with, if I had wanted to.

.

Draco

Merlin, kill me now!

I wish someone would hurry up and find us already! This is unbearable! The mudblood keeps going on and on about how evil everyone is: the Dark Lord, wizards and witches, me! It's like someone cast the Déjà Vu spell on it! And that self-righteous and "I know everything" attitude- fucking insufferable!

I have to remind myself there's only six days left until I escape the mudblood, unless the Death Eaters or Ministry officials find us first. I told myself yesterday that I would allow myself one week to retrieve my wand. If I still don't have it back by then, I will suck it up and contact the Dark Lord. I just hope it doesn't come to that. I shudder at the thought of telling the greatest wizard that ever lived that I, Draco Abraxas Malfoy, top of my class in Hogwarts and the youngest wizard ever to join the Dark Lord's elite, was outsmarted and outmagicked by a stupid mudblood with no formal training.

The mudblood still hasn't dropped its guard around me, not for one second. It has not released me from the ropes securing my wrists together, and it always makes sure that I take the lead, so that it can trail behind with _my_ wand trained at me. There hasn't been a single opening for me to try and take the wand back.

"Malfoy, stop for a minute." The mudblood barks.

"You can't order me around, mudblood." Nevertheless, I halt.

"You're bleeding." It says, eyeing my wrists. I look down. The ropes have dug deep gashes into my skin, and blood pours out freely from the wounds. The ropes have turned a deep crimson, as well has my hands. I wonder why I hadn't noticed that before.

"Well, it's your fucking fault. Yours and these damned ropes!" I snarl.

"I suppose, if you promise not to run, I can take the ropes off." She offers.

Wait, what? Is she really so stupid that she would take my word for it? "Fine. I _promise_." Maybe this will be easier than I'd thought. I gave this mudblood way too much credit.

"Alright, but if you make one wrong move, it will be the last move you make for a very long time. Understood?" I nod. Well, I guess it's not completely naïve.

It points the wand at the ropes. "Wait! You've never used Diffindo before, have you?"

It rolls its eyes. "Of course not! Mudblood, remember? No wands allowed."

"Then don't use it! If you do it wrong, it can cut through my flesh. And I'm cut up enough, thank you very much!"

"Well, it's either this, or I untie the knots myself. Which would mean I'd probably touch you." It smirks.

This is a tough decision. Risk being further injured, or risk being touched by filth. Which is the lesser of two evils? They seem pretty equal.

"Done!" The mudblood declares proudly, the severed ropes lying by its feet. Well, that solves that.

"Great. Now heal me." I hold out my wrists.

"No." The mudblood doesn't even think about it.

"Yes. Look at my wrists- they'll scar if you don't!"

"Yes, but it won't kill you. But if I do the spell wrong, I will kill you. And I've never done it before, so no. I will not heal you." I glare at her with an intensity that has sent even grown Pureblood men cowering with their tail between their legs, but this lowly little mudblood does not back down. Instead, it matches my glare with one almost as frightening.

A bird flies overhead, breaking our staring contest. "Come on, let's go." The mudblood commands. It waits until I start walking before following behind, with the wand pointed at me. It's the same arrangement as before, except for one crucial difference- I have use of my hands now.

.

**This chapter is really short, I know. I will try to get the next one up later today. **


	7. August 14

**I've been thinking about changing the title, so heads up on that. **

August 14- Draco

"Let's take a break. I'm hungry."

"We just ate lunch an hour ago!" The mudblood snaps.

"Well, bumbling through the bloody woods burns calories. If you want me to be able to keep up the pace, we need to have a snack break."

I can tell it doesn't want to stop, but the idea of slowing down is just as unappealing to the mudblood. Finally, it concedes, albeit reluctantly.

While it fumbles with the diminishing food supplies, I pull back my left sleeve. In the last two days, I have gotten nowhere with my escape plan. The mudblood still hasn't presented me with a single opportunity to retake my wand. I haven't showered in days, I've eaten only miniscule amounts of disgusting Muggle food, I've received countless cuts and bruises, not to mention the nasty rope burns on my wrists, and the only person around for company is a stupid, filthy mudblood; I am done! I can't take this anymore! I'm calling the Dark Lord, humiliation be damned!

A loud CRACK behind me compels the mudblood to turn around. It catches me with my sleeve pulled back, and I expect it to blow up. In the last few incredibly long days, I have learned that the mudblood has a nasty temper. Even the slightest upset can set it off. So imagine my surprise when it barely heeds my Dark Mark any attention, instead asking, "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"That noise. It sounded like someone stepped on a branch or something."

"Probably just an animal." Or maybe it's the search party! If I can just keep the mudblood stalled, maybe they will find us.

"We need to get going. We'll eat later."

"No. I want to eat now."

"I'm not stupid, Malfoy! I know that you're trying to keep me here so that the Death Eaters will find us." It says as it haphazardly stuffs the supplies back into the bag.

"Oh really? I think you're just scared of the mean little animals lurking in the forest!"

"I am not frightened of the animals! I'm just not keen on being tortured and killed by a pack of murderous Purebloods!"

"Oh, so you're afraid of the people you stole your magic from?" At this, the mudblood storms over to me, the bag forgotten.

"Let's get a few things straight, Malfoy. I didn't steal anything! Taking someone's magic is impossible, no matter what you bigoted idiots think. And I am not afraid of anyone! Not of animals, nor of Death Eaters, nor even of you!"

"What about the Dark Lord?" This question stops the mudblood short. It seems to think about it.

"Merlin, could you two be any louder? I'm surprised you haven't been caught yet!" A third voice exclaims, clearly amused. We look to where we heard the voice to see two identical redheads, wands in hand.

.

Hermione

I draw my wand. "You won't be getting either of us alive, you know. If you make any movements, I will kill us both!"

"Like hell you will!" Malfoy glares.

"Relax, we're not Death Eaters." One twin declares.

"Quite the opposite, really. We hate them." The other grins.

"And why should I believe you?" I question.

"Well, we haven't fired at you yet-"

"And we can take you somewhere safe-"

"Or you can stay here til the Death Eaters do find you-"

"Cause they are definitely are looking for you-"

"And they're close."

"This could be some clever rouse to capture me." I point out.

"I see you won't be easy to sway. I guess we'll have to try a different approach." One says, and the both disappear with a "Pop!" I hear the sound again, directly behind me. But before I can react, I feel a strong hand grip my arm, and suddenly, I'm being squeezed through a tube much too small. I can't breathe!

As quickly as the sensation came, it is gone. I feel the hand let go of me. God, I feel sick! I make my way to a nearby bush, where I proceed to relieve my stomach of its contents. When I'm through, I take a moment to pull myself together and sort things out.

I just Apparated for the first time. Of that, I'm certain. The redheads and Malfoy came as well, though I don't know where we are. Trees surround us, but they are foreign to me. This is not the same forest as the one by my house.

"Oi, Hermione, we need to get moving. We still aren't safe here!" One of the twins calls out.

"How do you know my name? And who are you? I'm not going anywhere with you two until I get a satisfactory answer." I cross my arms as if to reinforce my proclamation.

"Oops, I guess we haven't told you that, have we? Well, I'm Fred Weasley-"

"And I'm George Weasley-"

"And we know your name because it was all over the news for the last few days."

"Yeah, old Voldy really wants you!"

"There hasn't been a manhunt this big in nine years. Not since Sturgis Podmore led that group of rebels to break into the Ministry of Magic."

"I've never heard about that!" I say.

"Wouldn't expect you to. They kept it quiet about why they wanted him so bad. Would look bad, you see."

"I'm assuming they failed?"

"Nope. They managed to steal a lot of information. They caught Sturgis three weeks later, but not before he was able to hand over what he found to the Order."

"The Order still existed nine years ago? I thought it was finished when the Dark Lord took over."

"Yes, it still existed. But let's talk about that later. You never know who could be listening." This comment reminds me that Malfoy is still here. And I'm positive that he heard every word. Not good.

"So you said your surname is Weasley, right?" I ask.

"Sure did." Fred answers.

"So are you in any way related to Molly and Arthur Weasley?"

"Yeah, they're our birth parents. You've heard of them?" George says.

"Yes, they were in a few books I read. They both died in the Final Battle of the Wizarding War. They fought for the light." I take a deep breath. I hope I don't regret this, "Alright, I'll trust you. Where are we going?"

"A family who houses people running from the Dark Lord lives a few miles north of here. It's where Fred and I have been staying for the past two years."

Malfoy groans. "I still haven't gotten my food!"

"You can eat later. Come on!"

.

Draco

They lied. It's more than just a few miles. I think it's closer to ten miles before a modest two story house with yellow paneling comes into view.

One of the clones, I'm not sure which one, knocks on the door. After a short wait, the door opens and a thin woman with grey hair bundled into a loose knot on top of her head appears. She points a wand at us. "When you two were five, what did Fred turn Ron's stuffed bear into?" She questions.

"A giant spider." The two redheads answer at the same time. "Good times." One adds.

The lady lowers her wand and lets us in. She leads us into the kitchen and motions us to sit at the table. "Well, before we start, I think we'd better get everyone in here. Can you two get them?" She asks the twins. They nod and exit the room.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, the redheads reappear, followed by two more redheads and an elderly man. They all sit down.

"Ok, I think we should begin with introductions. I'll start. My name is Grace Westenberg."

"I'm Fergal Westenberg." The old man sitting to the left Mrs. Westenberg states.

"Charlie Weasley." The eldest redhead says.

"Ron Westenberg." The tallest redhead finishes.

"Hello everyone. I'm Hermione Granger." The mudblood smiles. Then, they all look at me.

"Draco Malfoy." I state gruffly. All of a sudden, I have six wands pointed at me.

"What the hell did you bring Draco Malfoy here for?" Demands redhead Westenberg.

"We didn't know who he was! He was travelling with Hermione, so we assumed he was just another wanted Muggle!" A twin defends himself and his brother.

"Boys, quit arguing. Ron, you and Charlie take him to the spare bedroom across from Fred and George's room. Take away any possessions he has and cast every Ward you know around the room. Grace and I will be up later to put up more." Westenberg instructs.

The redheads in question get up and try to grab me, but I shrug them off. I've got to keep some dignity. Instead, I allow them to lead me up a flight of stairs and down a narrow hallway. We stop at the very end. Weasley opens the door on the right and motions me inside. I obey grudgingly.

"Empty your pockets, Malfoy!" Westenberg orders the moment we enter the room.

"You know, I don't like your tone." I say coolly. His ears turn the same color as his hair.

"Well you're my prisoner, so I can talk to you any way I want! Now empty your pockets."

"_Your _prisoner? I don't think so. And I'll be out soon enough. As for my possessions, the mudblood already took everything I had."

"Bollocks! Accio!" Nothing happens.

"Believe me now?" I smirk. I am beginning to really not like this bloke.

"Ron, I finished with the Wards." Weasley says from the doorway. "Are you done with Malfoy, yet?"

Westenberg glares at me and nods. "Yeah." They go, leaving me alone in the tiny, sparsely decorated room.

.

Hermione

"This is a disaster!" Mrs. Westenberg cries as soon as Malfoy, Ron and Charlie are out of sight.

"Why didn't you warn us that that guy was a Death Eater? And a Malfoy at that!" One of the twins, Fred I think, exclaims.

"I'm sorry. I thought you knew. He's pretty recognizable and well-known, after all." I say.

"You two have been in the woods for days. You both are filthy. His hair is covered in mud, so his hair isn't that trademark white of the Malfoys. We didn't recognize him." Mrs. Westenberg explains.

I take a strand of my hair in my hand and I feel a thick layer of dirt on it. I guess I can see her point. I hadn't noticed it too much; I've had more important things to worry about over the last few days than worrying about cleanliness.

"What should we do with him? We can't let him go- he knows where we are. But he can't stay here, either. He'd summon the Dark Lord, and then we'd all be dead." Mr. Westenberg says.

"Oh, don't worry about that. I cast a spell so that if he tries to touch his Dark Mark, he'll be electrocuted before his hand gets within half a foot of it."

As if on cue, a string of choice curses make their way from upstairs.

Everyone looks at me in surprise. "Clever." George praises.

"He didn't waste any time, did he?" Charlie chuckles. I hadn't noticed his and Ron's return.

"So what happened after I ran? The Dark Lord must be furious." I ask. I've been agonizing over this since before I even left. What if something happened to someone I care about because of me? I don't think I'd ever be able to forgive myself.

The Weasleys and Westenbergs exchange looks. "Why don't go upstairs and get cleaned up and get some rest. We can talk about that in the morning, alright dear?" Mrs. Westenberg suggests. This instantly sends up red flags, and I want to protest, but the thought of showering and getting some real sleep just sounds so good after spending several exhausting days in the wilderness. So I concede and let Ron show me to the room I'll be staying in, which has an adjoining bathroom. Apparently, all twelve bedrooms have one. This house is huge!


	8. August 15

**I'm so sorry it took so long to update this (nine days, I think)! I had written a bunch earlier this week, but then my computer froze up and I lost everything. After that, I was just too pissed off to write anything.**

**On the upside, I finally learned how to use the "Insert horizontal ruler" button.**

* * *

><p><span>August 15- Draco<span>

I am so fucking bored! There is nothing more to do than sleep, plot each and every one of my captors' deaths, eat when someone brings me a meal, torment said person until they leave, and plan my escape. I haven't come up with anything since I found out that someone, probably the Mudblood, has prevented me from being able to touch my Dark Mark.

* * *

><p><span>August 15- Hermione<span>

I wake up completely rejuvenated. It's amazing how sleeping in an actual bed does wonders for your mood and energy. I don the clothes that Mrs. Westenberg brought me- a mix of her old clothes and clothes left behind by previous guests- while mine are being washed. They're a bit too matronly for me, but I don't mind. I'm just happy to be clean!

The moment I open the bedroom door, the mouthwatering aroma of a home-cooked breakfast assaults my nose. My stomach rumbles. I practically run to the kitchen, where I Mrs. Westenberg, Charlie and George cooking, while Mr. Westenberg, Ron and Fred set the table.

"Good morning!" Mr. Westenberg greets me.

"Good morning. What can I help with?" I ask.

"Nothing at all. Sit dear, breakfast is ready." Mrs. Westenberg says, a pan of scrambled eggs in her hand. While she, Charlie and George bring the food to the table, the rest of us take a seat. Ron takes the chair to my right, and Fred across from me. The other three join us, and we all dig in.

"Mm, the food is delicious!" I gush between bites.

"Aw, thank you Dearie!" Mrs. Westenberg says.

Breakfast goes by with pleasant, superficial chatter. I do glean a few interesting pieces of information, however. Apparently, all six of them attended Hogwarts in their youth. Mr. and Mrs. Westenberg and Charlie even met the great Albus Dumbledore! They were all placed into the house of Gryffindor except for Mr. Westenberg, who was in Hufflepuff. All of them are Purebloods, but they believe that blood status is "a load of Hippogriff dung," as the twins oh so eloquently phrase it.

After breakfast, Mrs. Westenberg makes a plate of the leftovers and takes it to Malfoy. Fred and Mr. Westenberg clean the table and counters while Ron and I wash dishes. It took some convincing to get Mrs. Westenberg to allow me to help.

"I can never understand why Mum always makes us do chores without magic!" Ron complains has I hand him another clean dish to dry.

"I think it's good that she does. It keeps you from being totally dependent on your magic." I say.

"Why would that be bad?"

I sigh in exasperation. Isn't it obvious! "Because, then you wouldn't be able to do anything for yourself. What if you were for some reason unable to use your wand? What then?" I reason patiently.

Ron snorts. "I don't see how doing magic to wash dishes makes me stupid. I could still do stuff!"

I hand him the final pot. "It's the principle of it." I try. My voice sounds calm and easy, but inside, I'm growing steadily more frustrated. It's like he doesn't _want_ to understand.

"Whatever," he mumbles dismissingly.

Mrs. Westenberg enters the kitchen at that moment. "Hermione, I believe you had some questions. Did you still want us to answer them?"

"Yes! I have so many; I don't know where to begin!"

"Well, let me get everyone. Make yourselves comfortable in the sitting room. I have a feeling it will be a long talk."

I walk with Ron to the room in question. The green floral wallpaper and chocolate brown cloth couches give the room a sort of rustic feel. Several tall windows line the far wall, lending a few to an enormous backyard and the edge of the woods.

Charlie and Mrs. Westenberg end up seated on one couch, me and Ron on the other, Mr. Westenberg on a chair, and the Weasley twins on the floor. They all look at me expectantly.

I clear my throat. "Alright. Well, I suppose I'll start with the question I asked last night. What happened after I ran away?"

"Hermione, I think it's best if you save that question for last." Mr. Westenberg says.

I have to bite my tongue to stop myself from screaming at them to tell me what happened. I doubt that that would get me anywhere.

"Alright, then, who exactly are you? I know your names, I know your blood statuses, but that's about it. I mean, why would you save me when I'm a wanted criminal? You'd all be killed if someone found out! And why exactly are the Weasleys all living here? Are you all related or something? Is that why Ron looks so much like them?" I say all this in one breath.

"Slow down there, Hermione! Don't forget to breathe." George, or at least I think it's him, chuckles.

"Before we answer your questions, let's get one thing straight," Mr. Westenberg says, giving me an unconvincingly stern look. "Call me Fergal, and my wife, Grace."

I laugh. "Alright."

"Good. Let's start with your simpler questions. Now the twins told me that you already know of their parents?"

I nod. "Arthur and Molly Weasley were Purebloods who were considered Blood-Traitors by blood purists long before the Wizarding War began. They joined the Order of the Phoenix in November of 1984 and fought for the Light in the Final Battle. Both perished, leaving behind six sons and one daughter." I read this in The Wizarding War: A Light Perspective, which I've almost finished. Camping out in the woods really put me behind in my reading.

"That about sums it up." Mr. Westenberg- excuse me, _Fergal_- says. "Their seven kids, from oldest to youngest, were named William, Charles, Percy, George, Fred, Ronald, and Ginerva. I'm not sure if you're aware, but the children of Blood-Traitors grow up with a Pureblood family until they come of age, to try and stamp the parents' beliefs out of the offspring. The eldest, William, or Bill as he preferred, was already almost sixteen when he and Charlie were handed off to the Flints. On his seventeenth birthday, the Dark Lord paid Bill a special visit to find out if his beliefs had been swayed. He told the Dark Lord, rather colorfully, I hear, that he would never support the Death Eaters."

"He said, and I quote, 'I will never follow you. I'd have to be a fucking idiot to worship at the feet of the bastard who caused my parent's deaths! You can kill me now,-' and here he actually used the Dark Lord's name! 'Because no matter what comes next, no matter how long it takes, be assured that I will be waiting for you. There, we-,' and that's when the Dark Lord killed him. He murdered my big brother right in front of me!" Charlie says angrily. Grace pats his back in sympathy.

"Completely horrid thing for the Dark Lord to do, but nothing that we don't expect of him." Fergal says. "So, two years later, Charlie was to turn seventeen. Knowing that he would be killed if he defied the Dark Lord, but determined not to join him, Charlie did the only thing he could think of. A week before his birthday, Charlie ran away."

"So how did he end up here?" I ask.

"I'll get to that. First, let me finish telling you where the rest of them grew up. Percy grew up with the Blishwicks. Until the Dark Lord paid him a visit on his seventeenth birthday, he never knew that he would have to pledge his allegiance out loud. He vowed that he supports the Dark Lord, so he was allowed to live. We still aren't sure whether he was lying to save his skin, or if he truly believes in the Dark Lord.

"Fred and George here were raised by the Notts, who are close friends with the Flints. They knew about what happened to Bill, and they were in contact with Charlie, so when the time came, they, too, ran away.

"Then there is Ronald, the youngest of the Weasleys." I glance next to me to Ron. Fergal notices. "Yes, you guessed it. Ron here is our adopted son; he was born a Weasley. But we love him as our own. It's by his choice that he keeps our name."

"So did all of the adoptive parents keep in touch? Is that how you found them?" I ask.

"Not at all," Fergal chuckles.

"The Notts and the Flints hate the Westenbergs. Maurine and Dougal would go on for hours about how they are Blood-Traitors and how Dark Lord should have killed them." Fred says.

"Who are Maurine and Dougal?" I ask.  
>"Maurine and Dougal Nott. They were our adoptive parents." George answers.<p>

"My adoptive parents, Garron and Darcie, were the same. So I set out to find the Westenbergs, spied on them for a short while, and decided to ask if they'd take me in. They did, obviously, and that's when I found out about little Ronnie." Ron scowls at Charlie.

"Did you grow up knowing your surname was Weasley?" I've always wondered whether the children of Blood-Traitors knew their true heritage.

"Well, most don't, but I was fourteen when I was adopted, so of course I did. Grace and Fergal always made sure Ron knew of his heritage. But Fred and George, even though they were already eight years old when they moved in with the Notts, didn't know who their real parents were. The Ministry brainwashes the Blood-Traitor children into forgetting, but those who have already gone through puberty are often unable to be fully conditioned without using Obliviate, and that's too risky to use." Charlie says.

"Ok… and what about Ginerva?" They haven't said anything about her yet, except for her name.

The easy-going atmosphere in the room thickens noticeably. The grins on everyone's face vanishes, and a pregnant silence pervades the room.

"She was raised by the Browns. None of us know much about them. She turned seventeen four days ago, but we don't know what happened…" Ron eventually whispers.

"I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?" I ask. They all shake their heads no.

"We haven't received any intelligence yet. Charlie and Ron are going to spy on the Brown residence later today, to see if they can learn anything." Grace says.

"But that's incredibly dangerous! What if they're caught?" I gasp.

"I know, I'm worried too. But they know what they're doing and it is their choice. I can't stop them."

"Alright, so what does everyone do for a living?" I ask, wanting to lighten the atmosphere a little. Unfortunately, this doesn't have the desired effects.

"Well, I work for the Ministry as the Head for the Department of Magical Transportation. I only have to go into work a few days a week now." Fergal grins.

"I'm retired now, but I was a writer for the Daily Prophet." Grace says. I try to keep my face neutral at this little fact, but my disgust must show on my face anyways. "I started working there long before our Lord took over. Back then, I was able to publish my own opinions. I still tried to after the war, but I was kindly asked to follow the rules, or resign. I chose the latter." She explains with a shrug.

My eyes widen. "I would have thought you'd be killed for that!"

"Oh, I was very careful- never said anything against the New Order outright. And I was a Pureblood, so they didn't want to dispose of me unless they deemed it absolutely necessary."

"I see. So what about you, Charlie? What do you do?" I ask.

"I defied the Dark Lord. I'm a wanted man. The only things I can do are… underground, I guess you can say."

"Oh, I didn't think about that." Which is unusual for me- I normally consider every possibility. "I assume it's the same for the rest of you?"

"Well, it is for Fred and George, but Mum and Dad don't support the Dark Lord at all. So they didn't alert him when I turned seventeen. He can't keep tabs on everyone- he's got more important things to worry about. He expects people to come to him when their son or daughter is coming of age." Ron says.

"Do you have a job, then?"

"Not yet. Can't figure out what I'm good at."

"Oh, well I'm sure there's something. I'll help you later, if you want."

"That'd be great. Thanks!" Ron smiles. I smile back.

"Right, well is that all the questions you had? You can always ask more later." Fergal says.

"No, you were going to tell me about what happened back home after I left." I remind him. I think he was hoping I forgot. But this is important to me. I could never forget.

The looks of pity fixed on six different faces frustrate and worry me. Can't they tell me already?

"Well, we already told you that you're a criminal." George begins.

"And that the Dark Lord wants you. Bad." Fred adds. I wait for one of them to say more, but they don't.

"And?" I ask frustrated.

"Maybe we should just show her?" Charlie suggests when no one says anything.

"I don't think that's a good idea. It's way too graphic, it would scar the poor girl. We should just tell her." Grace says.

"Hello, I'm right here! Just show me. I'm a big girl, I can handle it." I practically scream. This entire discussion is putting me on edge.

"Are you sure, Hermione? It's pretty bad." Ron says.

"Yes, I'm sure!"

Ron grabs the television remote and the channel two news comes on. Reporter Amber Willis is informing the viewers of the Dark Lord's recent triumph in the western Russia.

"Hey look, it's Ronnie's girlfriend!" Fred teases.

"Ha, he wishes. She's way too hot for him!" George says.

"Shut up." Ron mumbles, his ears bright red.

"Oh, change it to channel seven!" I exclaim abruptly.

"Why channel seven?" He asks as he switches the channel.

"Because, one of my best friends was auditioning to be a reporter. I want to see if she got the job."

I don't normally watch this station, so I do not know the names of any of the reporters or the anchors. The male anchor, an attractive, dark-skinned man, probably around twenty-eight, is talking about an upcoming execution. I groan internally. I really don't want to watch more innocent people be brutally murdered.

"Let's turn to our newest addition, Olivia Lennox, to tell us more." He says, perking me up.

"Oh my goodness, she got it!" I cry out excitedly.

"I'm standing here at the ashes of what used to be the home of the couple scheduled for execution. As you can see, nothing was overlooked. This whole neighborhood was set fire to, actually." The camera pans over mounds and mounds of ashes. Even in between the rows of ruins, where a road probably lied, is gone. Nothing is left standing- nothing, except for a forest. A forest that is eerily familiar.

"Oh my god, no!" I scream. How could they do this? They destroyed my home! They destroyed my entire neighborhood! And there Olivia is, standing there, _smiling_, and reporting this as if it wasn't her home that had been completely obliterated.

"Fiend fyre- nasty stuff. Amazing how our Lord is able to control it so expertly. Not a single tree in the forest was singed! But every man, woman and child was, apart from the Grangers, of course. Their execution is tomorrow at noon. So let this be a warning to everyone- criminal activity is will be punished." With that sickly smile still planted on her ugly face, Olivia turns the show back to the anchors.

Six pairs of eyes turn to my direction. I can feel the tears burning in my eyes, begging to be released. Whether they are a product of seeing my home in smithereens, or of hearing of my parent's impending execution, or of knowing that I am the reason why all of my neighbors are dead, or of my best friend's betrayal, I couldn't say. Probably some combination of all four. Whatever the case, I refuse to let my tears loose in front of a bunch of people I just met. So I excuse myself and run to the room I am staying in. The moment the door slams behind me, the first of many tears rolls down my cheek.


	9. August 16

**I think I'm going to change the title to A Struggle for Reformation. I know, I suck at titles, but I think that one sucks a little less than the current title.  
>Thank you to those of you who have alerted andor favorited this story, and to those who have favorited and/or alerted me (wow!) and especially to those of you who have reviewed. You guys are awesome!  
><strong>**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><span>August 16, 1998- Hermione<span>

My eyes are sore and puffy, my body aches, and my head feels like it's being pushed in from all sides. That's what I get from crying all night. I'm disgusted with my behavior. How can I lie here, bawling my eyes out, when my parents are about to be murdered? I should be saving them, not mourning their upcoming deaths.

With that in mind, I hastily get myself ready for the day while thinking up a rescue plan. It's 7:12 in the morning- that gives me four hours and forty-eight minutes before they're executed. But where are prisoners kept before executions? I have no idea. But I know just the person who does.

I run downstairs. Only Grace is awake. I find her curled up on the couch, drinking a cup of tea and reading The Daily Prophet.

"Good morning, Hermione. You're up early," She says when she sees me.

I decide I don't have time for pleasantries or beating around the bush. "Do you know where my parents are being held at?" I ask.

"No, I'm sorry. That kind of information is completely confidential."

"Then where is Malfoy being kept at?"

"Upstairs. I can take you, if you like."

I nod. "Yes please."

* * *

><p>"Do you want me to go in with you?" Grace offers. We're standing in front of a door at the very end of a hallway.<p>

"No, you go and relax. I've got to talk to him by myself." She leaves, and I open the door to a room, smaller than the one I'm staying in but still larger than any room at my own house. The walls are beige and windowless, the carpets chocolate brown. A door, probably leading to the bathroom, is to my left. In the center of the room is a queen-size bed, currently occupied by a certain slumbering blond.

"Malfoy?" I call out quietly. He doesn't stir. "Malfoy?" I try again a bit louder. Still, he does not budge. "Malfoy, wake up!" He shifts in his sleep, but doesn't wake. Merlin, is he a heavy sleeper!

I creep over next to the bed. I lean over and yell into his ear. "MALFOY!" This does the trick. He bolts upright, his head hitting mine in the process.

* * *

><p><span>Draco<span>

"Ow, what the fuck, Mudblood? Did you really miss me so much that you couldn't wait for me to wake up? Geez!" I say, rubbing my head. That bloody hurt!

"Get over yourself, Malfoy. I need your help." Merlin, this Mudblood's got some nerve.

"You need _my _help? You kidnapped me, you stole my wand, you are keeping me hostage. Tell me, why should I help you?"

"Malfoy, you tried to kidnap me first. I would have had it much worse than you do right now if you had succeeded. I was only trying to survive. Surely you can respect that."

I smirk. "Of course. And I want something in return for helping you. _Surely _you can respect that."

"What do you want?" It asks without hesitation. The Mudblood must really need my help. Excellent.

"Let me go."

"No." It answers without missing a beat.

"Fine. But I'm not helping you." It glares at me. I smirk back.

"Ok." It says.

"What?" I ask, letting the mild surprise show on my face. I hadn't expected it to give up that quickly.

"If you help me, I'll set you free." I stare into its muddy-brown eyes, wishing I had my wand so that I could read the Mudblood's mind. But then, if I still had my wand, I wouldn't be in this mess, would I?

"Why do you need my help so badly?" I finally ask. Even my freedom isn't worth being killed over, so I need to find out what I'm helping with before I agree.

"I need to rescue my parents." This one sentence clicks everything together.

"Let me guess, the Dark Lord is pissed off at you, so he is giving your parents a public execution."

"Exactly. And I've only got four and a half hours left, so let's get moving." She says, grabbing my wrist to pull me out of bed. I shoo its filthy hand away and get up on my own. The Mudblood immediately starts drooling over my bare chest.

"Like what you see?" I say, a mocking smirk gracing my lips. Its cheeks turn tomato red and it forcefully turns its attention to my face.

"No actually. I'd much rather be looking up a dragon's arse than at your ugly face. Unfortunately, a dragon won't be of much use to me right now. So are you going to help me or not?"

"Merlin, Mudblood. You really know how to charm a bloke into helping you." I say sarcastically as I put on my now worn shirt. I refuse to wear anything that once belonged to someone else. That is just disgusting. "What exactly do you expect me to do?"

"I was just going to get information from you, but if you want to be set free, you'll have to come with me."

"No fucking way. I'll tell you everything you want, but there is no way in hell I'm going down there."

"Why not?"

"They are locked in the underground cellars of Azkaban right now. Not only is it impossible to Apparate there, but Dementors swarm the place. We can't get there undetected. You can go right ahead and go, but I rather like having my soul where it is."

"Maybe we can pretend to be Ministry officials…"

"That could work, I suppose, if you were any good at Occlumency. But judging by the fact that not only are you a Mudblood with no magical training, but you are also highly emotional, I would say that you're not. Am I correct?"

"Yes. But in all my reading, I have never read anything about Dementors having the ability to perform Legilimency."

"Don't be absurd, Mudblood. Dementors are not wizards. But they do sense fear. Only a skilled Occlumens can hide it from them."

"Who said I was scared?" She says rather indignantly.

"Granger, your parents will be murdered if you don't succeed. Only a fool wouldn't be."

"Teach me, then."

"What?" Did I hear her right?

"Teach me Occlumency."

"In four hours? Impossible." It glares.

"For your information, Malfoy, not all Mudbloods are stupid. I'm actually rather intelligent."

"It has nothing to do with your blood or your intelligence. It takes a lot of discipline to protect your mind. It took me a month before I could successfully keep someone out of my mind for more than a few seconds. And you're much more emotional than I am. It will be much more difficult for you to learn."

"Why do you care, anyway? Even if I'm caught, you'd still go free. Surely the Dark Lord would believe you if you told him the truth."

"Dementors can't distinguish between those who are trying to break people in, and those who are being held against their will. They would Kiss us both before the Dark Lord even arrived."

"Fine, I'll do it myself. Just tell me what I need to know."

"Are you still going to set me free?"

"If you're not going to come with me, then no. Ask for something else."

I think for a moment. "Offer me something." I finally say.

"Hmm… What if we allow you to roam the house freely. Only while somebody is here and only during the day, of course."

That actually sounds pretty good right now. I was stuck in this room all day yesterday, and I thought I was going to kill myself out of boredom!

"Deal." I agree.

"Ok. Don't lie about anything; it won't do you any good. If I die, the curse I placed over your Dark Mark will activate. I've read that it feels similar to the Cruciatus Curse, only contained to one specific area, in your case your arm. This would last for about an hour, giving everyone plenty of time to redo the spell." Damn it. This bloody Mudblood thinks of everything.

"Fine. The first thing you need to know is that Azkaban is impregnable." I say.

"That doesn't matter. I'm saving my parents, no matter what."

"It does matter. I'm not all that fond of pain. I would suggest that you retrieve them at the Execution Station."

"That would be suicide and you know it! If you're not going to help, then I guess our deal is off." It gets up, ready to storm out.

"Sit down, Mudblood. Hear me out. There isn't an anti-Apparation ward placed over it. All you would have to do is Apparate in, grab your parents, and Disapparate. Simple." It contemplates my suggestion.

"It seems a little too simple- something is bound to go wrong. But I suppose that of my two options, that's the best one."

There's one other thing that I should tell her. An internal battle rages inside me, debating whether I want to warn her, but the side that tells me not to wins out. It's not like what I have to say would prevent it from being killed.

"Well, you'd better start planning. They'll be taking your parents out of prison at around a quarter till." It nods and walks out.

* * *

><p><span>Hermione<span>

First thing's first, I need to find someone who's willing to come with me. I can't Apparate, so I need someone else to do it for me.

I find Grace, Fergal and the twins in the kitchen, eating breakfast. I must have been with Malfoy longer than I though.

"Sorry we didn't wait for you, dear. The food was getting cold and we didn't want to disturb your chat." Grace says.

"Oh, it's fine. I'm not hungry anyway. Where are Ron and Charlie?" I ask, noticing the empty chairs.

"They're spying on their sister and the Browns." Right. After finding out about the fate of my home and my parents, yesterday's discussion was completely wiped from my mind. They had said they were leaving.

I join them at the table. "Can I ask for a favor?"

"Of course, what is it?" Fergal answers.

"I want to rescue my parents. I need someone to let me side-along Apparate with them."

"We'll go." The twins volunteer. I smile at them gratefully.

"I'll go too. Each of us can safely take only one person." Fergal says.

"Thank you so much."

* * *

><p>"Ready, everyone?" We nod. "Remember, Apparate to the left side of the stage." Fergal says. I grip George's arm tightly and squeeze my eyes shut, ready for the uncomfortable sensation of being forced through a tiny tube.<p>

"On the count of three, then. One…two…three!" Three simultaneous pops fill the Westenberg house, but we're gone before we can hear them.

The first thing I see when I open my eyes are a man and a woman wearing nothing but ratty, bloody cloaks. The two adults look almost as beat up as the clothes on their backs.

"Mum, Dad!" I breathe. It's really them!

"Hey, you can't be back here! Scram!" A deep, scratchy voice yells. I turn to see three men, donned in the blue robes of the guards, making their way toward us. Or at least, they were. A red jet of light hits each in the chest, and all three fall to the ground.

"Hurry! More will come soon." Fergal commands.

"Mum, Dad?" I call them louder this time.

"Hermione?" Dad looks dazed, Mum looks ready to burst into tears.

"We don't have much time. We have to get out of here. Dad, you are going with Fergal. He's the grey-haired man with the glasses. Mum, you're going with Fred, the redhead wearing the purple shirt." I point each one out.

"But Hermione, where-?"

"No time for questions, Dad!"

Everyone goes to their assigned partner. "Stop! Prisoners escaping!" The voice of an adolescent yells. I have just enough time to see a band of about six or seven guards before the tubes swallows me again.

* * *

><p>"Is everyone alright?" Grace frets as soon as we hit the soft carpet of the living room floor.<p>

"Yes, everyone's fine. The rescue went on without a hitch." Fergal reassures his wife. I'm surprised at how smoothly it went, but I have a nagging feeling there's something we're missing.

Suddenly, I'm enveloped in the embrace of my parents, and all negative thoughts vanish. They're here, they're safe, and that's all that matters.

* * *

><p><span>Draco<span>

It's dinner time, and it's the first time I get to eat with everyone else. True to her word, the Mudblood convinced the blood traitors to let me out, although they were not happy about it. From 9 am to 9 pm, I'm allowed to roam the house, as long as I don't go outside or try to murder anyone. Can't say it isn't tempting; I haven't breathed a whiff of fresh air in days now, and some of these redheads are really getting on my nerves, especially Westenberg. Something about him just bugs the shit out of me. If I were to kill any of these people, it would probably be him. And that's saying something, considering there are two Muggles and a Mudblood in the house.

It is incredibly awkward, though, to dine with people you despise. The only reason I'm sitting here at the table, rather than in my room, is because Mrs. Westenberg refuses to let me bring food in there anymore.

It doesn't help that I'm sitting across from the Mudblood. She keeps grinning at everyone, happy that her parents are sitting there next to her. She's even directed a few grateful smiles at me. I think I feel…guilt for not telling her, but she'll find out soon enough.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm not sure if I mentioned this already, or if everyone already knows this, but the Westenbergs were actually mentioned briefly in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.<strong>


	10. August 17

August 17, 1998- Hermione

"Are my parents up yet?" I ask no one in particular. Breakfast is ready, but the only ones here are Fergal, Grace, the twins, and me. Ron and Charlie are still stalking the Browns, Malfoy is being an antisocial prat, refusing to come out of his room, and my parents have yet to be seen this morning.

"Nope, haven't seen them." Fred says.

"They've been through a lot. They're probably exhausted." Fergal says. I nod, but for some reason, I feel uneasy.

* * *

><p>Three hours later, I'm worried sick. I can't remember them ever sleeping in this late. I can't wait any longer; I have to go check on them. Their room is right next to mine. I lightly knock, not wanting to walk in on any…intimacy, though I doubt they'd do that in someone else's home. Wait, why am I even thinking about this? I really wish I could scourgify my mind right now.<p>

I knock again when nobody answers, louder this time. Is that someone telling me to come in? I vaguely hear something, but it's so quiet, I can't be sure.

"Mum, Dad, I'm coming in!" I say, slowly turning the handle to give them time to tell me not to. They don't.

At first, I think they're still asleep. Both are completely buried in the light golden satins of the bedding. Then I hear a weak "Hermione" struggle out from my dear mum's mouth.

"Oh my goodness, are you okay?" I exclaim, running to my parents' side. I gasp when I see them. Both look so small, so weak. Their skin, so tan and healthy yesterday, despite the cuts and bruises, is now so incredibly pale and sagging off their bones. My dad is asleep, but my mum's eyes are red and so large for her shrunken face, they look ready to pop out. I brush her long hair out of her face, but retract my hand quickly when I graze her forehead. It's burning up.

"Water." Mum manages to get out. I quickly summon a glass and fill it up with water.

"Here, drink up." I try to hand her the cup, but she barely has the strength to move her arm at all. So I bring the cup to her lips and hold it as she drinks.

When she is done, I set the glass on the small table next to the bed and go over to the other side, where my Dad lies. "Dad, do you want anything?"

No answer.

"Dad?" I warily touch his brow. It's ice cold. Panicking, my fingers jump to his neck, searching for a pulse. Nothing.

Tears start burning my eyes. I can't let them fall though, not now, at least. I don't think my mum knows that her husband died next to her, and I doubt she could handle the news right now.

"Mum, would you like some soup?" I ask. My voice sounds hollow, even to me, but hopefully she won't notice. Her head moves ever so slightly, telling me no.

"Alright. I'm just going to get some stuff to help you get better." She shakes her head again.

"Don't worry, Mum. I'll be right back."

"Stay." She croaks.

"What? Mum, you'll… you'll die if I don't get some help. I'll come right back, ok?"

"Stay." She repeats. Her chocolate eyes gaze intently into mine, looking incredibly like my own, right down to their determined edge. I sigh, realizing that my mum isn't nearly as out of it as I'd thought. She knows that she is on her death bed. She wants me to stay with her until the end, and she won't take no for an answer.

Without a word, I summon a chair, grasp her hand, and steel myself for what will come much too soon.

Draco

My stomach roars at me yet again, demanding food. I can't go down there, though. I can't face her. Has she discovered her parents yet? Are they dead yet? If they're not, they will be soon.

I wonder how my parents are doing. And Pansy. And Harry. I sincerely hope none of them have been punished for my failure. I shudder. I wouldn't put it past the Dark Lord to do so.

Hermione

I have no idea how long I've been sitting here, clutching my mum's hand securely in my own, waiting for her to leave me. I only notice the fragile woman in front of me. Occasionally, I whisper words of comfort to her as she sleeps, but otherwise, the room is eerily quiet. She fell asleep soon after ordering me to stay with her, and she hasn't woken up since. I briefly thought about getting some help a while ago, but decided against it almost immediately. It's her wish for me to stay by her side, and I doubt I could leave her now, regardless.

If I hadn't been watching my mum so intently, I might have missed the moment she expels her last breath, when her head just seems to seep deeper into the pillow. There isn't even any warning. She just…dies.

I don't burst in to tears, I don't even feel sad, even as I feel her hand cooling rapidly, and her lips turning in color. I feel nothing at all.

* * *

><p>Sometime later, a large, warm hand is placed on my shoulder, alerting me to the outside world. It's dark now, I realize. I glance behind me, where the tall outline of a man stands. I can't tell who he is; it's too dark. But somehow, he must be able to see me. He reaches out slowly, brushing tears from my cheek. It's a futile effort, though. The floodgates seem to break even more at his sweet gesture. I feel strong arms surround me as I'm pulled into a comforting embrace.<p> 


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